


Whatever May Come

by Wildfire1980



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best read the prequel otherwise you will be lost, Bitterness and Jealousy, But I did throw in some strong Jonsa too, But I will make you suffer as a reader before I get there, But it doesn't end well for them, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Happy endings for most involved, Heavy Angst, Heavy in the Jorleesi Department, Hints at Jorah Mormont/Sansa Stark, Hints of Sansa Stark/Tyrion Lannister, I hate to even admit it but even Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sequel to When Ice and Fire Collide, Story completely surrounds Dany and Jorah, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildfire1980/pseuds/Wildfire1980
Summary: His indifference was nothing more than a bear’s subterfuge. A barrier to keep his heart in its frigid state of hibernation and nowhere near the heat of the dragon’s flame that had burned him previously before.*Sequel to When Ice and Fire Collide*
Relationships: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jorah Mormont & Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 48
Kudos: 33





	1. The Gathering

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the sequel to When Ice and Fire Collide. 
> 
> The first chapter kind of mixes things up a bit, as you will see. 
> 
> Jonsa fans - welcome to the shit show. This is my first attempt at anything even remotely aimed toward Jon/Sansa, so please be kind. 
> 
> This is still solely a Jorleesi fanfic, but some Jonsa has been added as a bit of a divergence from the main couple. First chapter is rather short, not my usual length as far as chapters are concerned. But, its a start.

New beginnings.

Second chances.

A fresh start.

That’s what drives them.

Well, it’s partly the cause behind her crusade.

But deep down, she knows it’s more about vindication.

A campaign that she has envisioned since the death of her father.

Fueled by vengeance and Littlefinger’s phycological lessons in one-upmanship.

She learned a great deal from his passive-aggressive behavior.

Such as turning the odds in your favor.

Afterall, retribution tastes sweet when served cold.

And that’s the bitter emotion that she and Jon can agree on.

The one that binds them together.

Like vines intricately woven together.

Both have experienced the art of betrayal.

Of a friend turning to foe.

A beast of burden that no man would welcome with open arms.

A branding by the iron that still burns years after its mark.

Leaving its victims in a perpetual state of emotional purgatory.

Always speculating another man’s honor or intentions.

At least, that was her fate now.

Maybe not so much as Jon’s.

He still seemed to trust.

To hold onto the belief that deep down, most men are morally sound.

But she has witnessed evil on unprecedented levels.

More than she would care to report.

Ramsey Bolton being the top of that list.

Surpassing Joffrey Baratheon with an ease that made his treachery look like the makings of an amateur.

Which is quite possibly why Jon seems so amiable.

So willing to entertain her notion to rescue Winterfell from the Bolton’s hold.

Despite how hopeless her plan may seem.

Especially now.

But if he imagined her blind to their circumstances, he would be sadly mistaken.

She was more aware now than ever.

Of how a twisted turn of events, had left her just as much of a bastard as he.

Both orphans now.

With the idea of home being nothing more than a memory. 

Locked within concrete walls that no longer serve them.

Sansa knew how bleak things looked.

How impossibly out of reach her dreams appeared to be.

But armies could be gathered and hope could be cultivated.

Winterfell may be lost to them, but the Stark name was not.

And that would be there weapon of choice.

The history of their reign.

A primary line of faithful rulers, whose paramount concern was the North’s survival.

That was the imprint of the Stark name.

The contrast between her and Jon.

She still believed in the allegiance the name invoked.

Jon on the other hand, still needed convincing.

An art that she had mastered to perfection.

No longer the naïve, stupid girl, she once believed herself to be.

She had been forced to awaken from that stupor long ago.

And so, persuade him she did.

Unknowingly, it would become a familiar custom.

At first, bereft from the gentleness of touch.

Soon becoming her trademark.

Something he would often associate with her, whenever the notion hit him.

Of how there was this act of despondency that she would often do.

Whenever Jon would retreat within himself.

Needing to escape the issue at hand.

As well as her presence.

But just as in Stark fashion, she would have none of that.

As a swift hand, directed by urgency and desperation, would clasp his, effectively reclaiming his attention.

Like a jolt to the system.

A shock to reality.

One that would bring him back to her time and again.

With his eyes wide and alert, his visage stricken by the brazenness of her authority.

His body paralyzed by the spark in her eyes.

Alit with the beginnings of a fire, burning bright with the flames of her story.

A retelling that he wasn’t quite prepared to hear.

Certain that her history was filled with terror and unspeakable affliction.

The gods using her persecution to make an example out of her.

Only the strong could withstand such suffering and come out a better person for it.

But she could see the affirmation in his brown eyes.

Along with the pity he would always try to hide, whenever reminded of her past.

Which seemed to be every time he looked at her.

Pulling declarations from his chest that assured her of his protection.

Only to be grieved by the indifference of her tone, whenever she would make a mockery of his promises.

Sansa’s words may be as dark as the night surrounding them, but her skepticism shined as bright as the sun during its peak.

Perhaps not a healthy dose of criticism.

But she has remained in survival mode for some time.

Cold and distant to those who pretended to care.

It was nothing more than a defense mechanism that she often employed, if only to keep her heart from experiencing further disappointment.

And she could see no end to its fortification anytime soon.

Until their journey to Bear Island.

It was a relatively cold night.

The kind that creates a misty, fleeting cloud in the air with every exhale of breath.

A sure sign that they were on the brink of their destination.

At the very edges of the North’s reach in the Bay of Ice.

 _Their_ North.

Unfortunately, the fire blazing in their cabin was of little consolation from the biting chill.

It was late.

But neither could sleep.

And she had sought him out, just as she had on many other occasions.

If for no reason at all, other than to sit in silence.

A ritual that was quickly becoming a habit between the two.

One, where oddly enough, words were not needed.

Just the comfort of one’s presence.

But this night was different.

Because Jon had cut ties with the silence.

Intruding upon her solitude with more vows that never seemed to ring true.

Except tonight.

“Sansa?”

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but held the influence needed to lure her blue eyes to his.

“I need you to believe me.” He silently pleaded.

At first, she wasn’t quite following his meaning, failing to offer the response he waited for.

And in her bewilderment, she innocently parted her lips.

An act that wasn’t lost to Jon.

As Sansa watched his eyes drift down and linger, only to abandon his detouring thoughts altogether.

Saving face by returning to his previous course.

“As long as I live and breathe.” Jon whispered. “I’ll keep you safe…I swear it.” 

And to her surprise, he wasn’t put off by her dubious response.

“That is the one thing you cannot do.” She turned away from him, eyes fixed to the flames. “No one can.”

But she could still feel his gaze on her. 

Constant and unwavering in his conviction to prove her wrong.

“Watch me and see.” 

Her eyes cut back to his, searching their depths.

As if reading the very pages of his soul.

Examining the inner workings of his heart.

Judging his ability to prove what has become so rare in her world – a man of his word. 

And suddenly, she could feel the rekindling taking place deep within her chest.

The ashes alighting with the embers of life.

As he breathed hope back into what she had written off so long ago.

But now, she can feel its spark.

And that was enough to sustain her.

To catch her attention.

Supplying her with the ability to maybe, just maybe, believe again.

But then, she realizes that Jon sees the flicker as well.

A mere foretaste to the wildfire that’s to come.

The slow smirk, pulling at the corners of his mouth tells her as much. 

His observant eyes never once leaving hers.

And for the first time in years, she was finally able to find peace in her sleep.


	2. A Meeting of Exiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa arrive to Bear Island, hoping to garner support for their cause. But Lyanna Mormont proves to be more difficult in convincing than the Starks initially expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a looong Christmas hiatus...I'm back biatches! Lol
> 
> No, seriously, Christmas kicked my butt and left zero time for writing. I apologize for leaving my stories hanging, but I assure you, I will never abandon them. They will be finished, come hell or high water. 
> 
> This chapter is not the normal length of chapters that I put out. But it is an update...Yays, for that.
> 
> As far as my other story...Remembering You, yes, an update is in the works. In fact, it's half finished, but I need a little longer to figure out where the hell I'm heading with it. I think I've almost got it down though. 😉

Before their arrival to Bear Island, the only alliance Jon had procured was that of the Wildlings.

It wasn’t enough.

Which is why they decided to sail to Bear Island next.

Seeking out the Houses that seemed the most loyal to the Starks.

But Lyanna Mormont proved to be more difficult than either one had anticipated.

First, accusing Jon of what the entire North has been aware of all his life – he’s a bastard and holds no rights to the Stark name.

_As far as I understand, you’re a Snow._

Then, brutally calling Sansa out on her fealty to the North, recounting her past marriages to the enemy.

_And Lady Sansa is a Bolton; or is she a Lannister…I’ve heard conflicting reports?_

For a child of ten, she was remarkably intimidating.

With a decisive arch of her brow and analytical tilt of her head.

Shamelessly making her inner thoughts transparent upon her stoic features.

She wasn’t the least bit impressed with the Stark name that Sansa had invested all her hopes in.

To her, they were mere commoners, begging for something they no longer had a right too.

Flattery will get them nowhere and Lyanna, well, she was above reproach.

It took her less than five minutes to deny their request.

Sansa was certain it was a new record – quite possibly the fastest rejection in all the history of Westeros.

Not to mention, the Lady of House Mormont seemed a little too eager to be rid of them.

For all intent and purposes, the whole campaign seemed to be all for naught.

A pipe dream that was hanging in the balance.

Until the unexpected happened with Ser Davos.

Sansa would have never imagined that he had such a way with children.

And this one, cold and indifferent, proved to be the most difficult.

Completely out of touch with her inner child.

But he was able to reach her.

To persuade Lady Mormont with his unassuming humor and a remarkable ability to read her inner frustrations.

Amazingly enough, Lyanna only needed what so many have failed to behold.

She wanted to be seen.

To be understood.

To be a child once again.

To be given the empathy her plight warranted.

Apparently, a little compassion could go a long way.

But all of that hard work was soon in jeopardy, when the stranger standing before them now, unexpectedly entered the hall, carrying a dead venison upon his shoulders.

The look of surprise playing across his hard features, made it clear to Sansa that he had no prior knowledge of their meeting, being deep within the forests, hunting.

She watched as he cautiously pulled the venison from his shoulders, setting its dead carcass upon the wooden floor, as Lyanna swiftly stood to her feet, alarmed by the curious exchanges between Jon and Sansa.

The stranger apologetically inclined his head.

“Forgive me, My Lady.” His eyes scan to Jon Snow, then to Sansa. “I was not aware we were expecting visitors.”

“Neither was I.” Her tone was slightly forgiving, yet impatient. “But their business here is done.”

His eyes pierce Lyanna’s. “And what business would that be?”

“None that would concern you, cousin.”

His identity was a slip of the tongue.

One easily made by an unsuspecting child, momentarily sucked in by the heat of the moment.

Jon’s eyes snapped back to Lyanna, whose hard exterior seemed to melt into pure panic.

When he turned back to Sansa, she was slightly shaking her head no.

Silently pleading for him to stay out of it.

To ignore the call of his honor.

And not to forfeit the progress Ser Davos had just made in their cause.

Jon ignored her.

Moving forward with his suspicions.

“You’re Jorah Mormont?”

The stranger neither confirmed, nor denied the claim.

As Lady Mormont’s glare burrowed into him, as if willing him to remain silent.

The only answer they received was a modestly, weak smile, as he reached down to retrieve the legs of the venison, lifting its body off the ground, and heaving it across his shoulders, then turning toward the exit.

“My father sentenced you to death, did he not?”

The older man froze, as a pregnant silence filled the hall, causing Sansa to close her eyes in agitation, fearing all was lost.

_You know nothing, Jon Snow._

She mentally repeated the mantra to herself.

Until she heard the stranger turn around, his blue eyes filled with what Sansa could only liken to remorse, as they sought out his cousin’s forgiveness.

“Don’t answer that.” Lyanna sternly intervened.

“If I recall correctly, you fled your punishment…to Essos?”

Jon wasn’t letting up.

Despite the disconcerting number of glares that seemed to be directed at him.

“Aye…I did.” Jorah said.

He was a man of few words. 

Which seemed to be a recurring theme among House Mormont.

A trait that didn’t go unnoticed by Sansa.

She remembered him now.

Although, his visit to Winterfell seemed so long ago.

And the years had been much kinder to him during that time.

But it was something about his eyes that brought the memory back.

They held the same sadness then, that they have now.

A certain melancholy, that equally matched hers.

“Jon.” Sansa heard herself say. “Need I remind you of why we are here?”

“Aye…I know why we are here.” He snapped back. “We need the numbers.”

The words came out of nowhere, the deep intonation pulling both siblings eyes back to the exiled Mormont.

“You’re Ned Stark’s bastard.”

Jorah watched Jon visibly flinch from the statement.

No doubt he had lived with that trademark his whole life.

Like a dark cloud hovering over his head for all his days.

A constant reminder of his father’s past mistake.

But Jon didn’t answer.

He didn’t have too.

His reaction was the only answer Jorah needed.

He wore his shame well.

Just as Jorah tried to do.

Sansa watched as his blue eyes studied the pair.

Clearly, he was a cautious man.

And somewhat… _rude._

He didn’t bow.

Or show any signs of respect to his former liege’s last remaining children.

Just merely shrugged his shoulders, indicating to the dead animal he still carried.

“Venison is for dinner.”

Then Jorah exited the Hall altogether, leaving Jon and Sansa to once again share a bewildered look between each other, as Ser Davos offered a more playful quip.

“He’s of the friendly sort, isn’t he?”


End file.
